Chapter 15
Chapter
On July Fourth, Tamar awakened to what sounded like drumming and the distinctive voices of Native Americans raised in song.
She thought she smelled meat cooking too.
Puzzled by all this, she dragged on her robe and, aided by her cane, made her way to the kitchen, where the sounds and smells were much more pronounced.
She opened the back door, and the first thing she saw when she stepped out onto the porch was her brother Thad dressed in white and seated on his sparkling white-and-gold-trimmed motorized scooter parked in the middle of the field.
The two long braids flowing down his back were laced with gold ribbon. His grandson Griffin stood by his side.
Thad called out, “Hey, little sister. How are you on this beautiful July morning?”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
A short distance away sat a circle of singers, their voices piercing the air, and farther away were two huge grills manned by Bing Shepard and Clay Dobbs. They waved their long meat-tending forks at her in greeting.
“Thad! What is this?”
“Why it’s Tamar Day, a day of celebration and tribute to the most ornery matriarch west of the Mississippi. We’re here to give you your flowers while you’re still with us, even if you don’t want them, and everyone is coming. So, go get dressed and come join the party.”
“And if I don’t want to participate?”
“Then I’ll have my kids dismantle your precious Olivia piece by piece and hide the parts from here to the Carolinas. Think I won’t?”
She blinked. Grumbling under her breath, she went back inside and got dressed.
Even she had to admit she had a great time.
When Thad said everyone was coming, he wasn’t kidding.
Mabel Franklin came, as did Trent’s mother Rita Lynn and her husband Paul Babcock.
Eli James drove from California in the new jeep he’d purchased with the fat check he’d earned from the sale of a piece of art, and to Bernadine and Tamar’s delight, he swung through Denver to pick up Crystal on his way.
Aaron Newton showed up, and Tamar offered him a sincere apology, which he accepted.
The Dark Horse ladies came and stayed at Tina’s B
Make it among earth’s humblest graves,
But not in a land where men are slaves.
In the power-filled silence that followed, her sister Tiffany spoke the second verse.
Zoey stepped to the mic for number three.
Jasmine lent her ten-year-old voice to the fourth, and Maria proudly recited number five.
Leah stepped up again for verses six and seven, and the girls recited the eighth and final stanza in solemn unison.
I ask no monument, proud and high,
To arrest the gaze of the passers by;
All that my yearning spirit craves
Is—Bury me not in a land of slaves!
It was another moving moment.
Devon returned to the mic. “Let’s give them all another round of applause.” The audience complied enthusiastically.
“And now . . . the Henry Adams August First parade! Let’s go!”
The Franklin High School band kicked things off with a jazzy version of “Sir Duke” by Stevie Wonder.
As the trumpets blared, the drum major strutted, and the cheerleaders dressed in the school colors of gray and green shook their pom-poms and led the horns, clarinets, and drums up Main Street.
They were followed by the waving, walking, and smiling Sheila, Lyman Proctor, and other local politicians who’d come to be seen by their constituents and members of the press.
Behind them came Jasmine’s catwalk. Costumed cats dressed up as everything from sharks to tutu-wearing ballerinas walked on leashes held by their owners.
One cat was dressed up as a “Frenchman,” complete with a red-and-black-striped T-shirt and a black beret.
There were cowboys in jeans sporting miniature Stetsons, a Darth Vader, and a bat.
The crowd marveled at all the great costumes, but Mr. Redding’s cats Levon and Bennie stole the show.
They walked beside Paula outfitted as rappers in black hoodies and dark glasses and with heavy fake-gold chains around their necks.
They walked as if they knew how cool they looked. The crowd went wild.
Tina said, “If they start hissing bars, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Bernadine had already lost hers. She was laughing so hard, she had tears in her eyes.
Needless to say, the cat parade was a hit.
The parade continued with members of the area Farmers Association, church choirs—one rocking Kirk Franklin’s “Stomp” on a beatbox—and the City of Franklin’s bookmobile.
There was also another group of animals that included geese, dogs, a hedgehog on a leash, and two llamas dressed up as a bride and groom.
Felicia Cisneros said through her laughter, “You country folks aren’t playing.”
Lily replied, “No ma’am. We are live and in living color.”
Fire trucks from all over the county streamed by next, along with cruisers driven by local law enforcement departments.
The parade ended with the appearance of the uniformed and mounted Buffalo Soldiers group.
Mal, holding the United States flag, led the way.
With him were thirty other men and women decked out in blue.
Devon announced, “If you are a veteran, please fall in behind the riders. We want to salute you, too, and thank you for your service to our country.”
A dozen or so attendees added themselves to the parade and were applauded and saluted by the crowd, much to their delight.
For the rest of the day, the large crowd rode the Ferris wheel, stuffed themselves with the offerings from the food trucks, and visited the tables of the crafters.
In the afternoon, they sat in their lawn chairs or spread blankets on the ground to sit and enjoy the entertainment, which included the choirs, Zoey’s band Exodusters, Franklin’s Taylor Swift wannabe—still off-key—and to everyone’s delight, Ralph the Singing Dog.
As dust fell, the big drive-in–size screen was set up for a showing of Jurassic Park, and after: fireworks.
Seated next to Mal on the risers and watching the drone-controlled display, Bernadine couldn’t’ve been more content.
Her little town had come so far since the day she arrived as its new owner.
There’d been highlights and lowlights, gains and losses, but most importantly, the sense of community and the residents’ connections to one another continued to soar as high as the fireworks overhead.
Henry Adams held many blessings, and if she lived to be one hundred, she’d never be able to count them all.
TAMAR SAT ON her porch and watched the fireworks flare overhead.
Through the grace of the Ancestors she’d lived to see another August First. How many more she’d see was beyond her ken, and she was okay with that.
Her year so far had had its ups and downs.
She’d lost Jimmy Redding and would probably miss him for the rest of her life.
She had a brush with death, talked with her outlaw aunt Teresa, and because of Teresa, made much-needed amends with her son Malachi.
Devon was on the road to becoming his true self, and she looked forward to their upcoming weekend together.
Because of her beloved Amari and the kids, she knew how to make pizza, a memory that made her smile.
No matter how much more life she’d get to see, she knew that each day was precious and tomorrow wasn’t promised.
A hoot drew her attention. She reached for the flashlight beside her on the old sofa, flicked it on, and directed the beam of light toward the shed.
There sat the owl. The vibrant gold eyes turned her way and focused on her for a few seconds.
The big raptor lifted its wings and flew off into the darkness.
“Good hunting, Teresa,” she said softly, then sat back and watched the rest of the fireworks show.